


One Decade

by Control_Room



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (hopefully), (s), Angst, Attempted Murder, Bike Races, DEAL WITH IT, Drinking, Drugs, Gen, Gonna get bad, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, Im rammbling, It'll get better, Jail, Like heck Stan is gonna be a sales man, Lists just gonna get longer, Mild Language, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, PLUTONIC RELATIONSHIP, Prison, Russian Roulette, Some sexual assult, Spellin wrong, StnlyMble, Suckers, Suicide Attempt, Ugh no, What Have I Done, Wrong dimensions, eep, much later, too many tags, twin problems, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Before Stan hightails it out of Jersey, he picks up a fourteen year old girl going through similar struggles. Teasing, comfort, pain, and friendship ensured. Whatever twins go through, they go together. But does it have to be your twin?





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keleficent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keleficent/gifts), [scribefindegil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribefindegil/gifts), [thesnadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/gifts).



> I couldn't have made this without scipunk on Tumblrs help. And shout out to hntrgurl, the person that inspired me to make an oc. Thank you to keleficent, who got me into fanfic writing. Grantie Snage, thank you for your existence, I love your work. And Grantie Scribe, you make my day better. Thank you all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people to thank! Keleficent, for being my fanfic role model! Grantie Snage, for incredible stories! Grantie Scribe, for making each day better! Hntergurl, for inspiring me make an OC! And last but definitely not least, Scipunk, for betaing and approving! Couldn't have written half of this without you all!

[Grantie Snage](http://thesnadger.tumblr.com) [Grantie Scribe](http://scribefindegil.tumblr.com) [Hunter](http://hntrgurl13.tumblr.com) [Scipunk](http://scipunk%2063.tumblr.com) [Keleficent](http://keleficent.tumblr.com)

* * *

 

Stanley sighed heavily, trying to ignore the burn in his throat and eyes from the stinging, hot, ever persistent tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was almost to the stop sign that was located at the end of his block, but he skidded to a halt. Slamming on the brakes, he found that he couldn't contain himself anymore. Shakily, he gave a last ditch effort not to cry, by suddenly releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding. However, not even that could hold back the river.

"Stupid school," He muttered, hands tightening on the wheel as the tears began to stream. "That stupid project... My stupid dad... Stupid... Stupid me... Great going, Stanley..."

He furiously rubbed his eyes to the point that he was sure that they were red from his hands and not from tears. The honking of another car horn behind him jerked him back to reality, forcing him to make yet another last second choice.

'Where do I go now...?'

Almost unconsciously, Stanley found himself making a left turn, heading towards a familiar surrounding. He found himself going towards his old hang-out; Glass Shard Beach. It was where the swing set he and his brother had claimed all those years ago sat, waiting and welcoming. With a fresh batch of tears forming, he found himself parking and then slamming the door of the StnlyMble shut. With quick and jerky movements, he soon sank into "his" swing, proceeded to drop his head into his hands, and wept for all that he lost.

"D-damn it..."

It was a long time before he was able to see again. The tears hadn't stopped, by they had cleared up enough. Once this was finally done, he sighed and threw his head back, letting out a course laugh.

"You never did want to let me live, did you, universe?" Stan laughed, his throat now sore. "Heck, was I even supposed to?"

Only silence responded, as he expected. With a heavy sigh, Stan turned his head skyward and began to study the stars above him, as though they held all of the answers.

"Yeah, thought so..."

Turned back to face the horizon, he caught what looked to be more stars, only to realize quickly that it was a boat, floating closer and closer to shore. Stanley frowned, knowing that the Beach law required all boats had to be out of the water by dusk. Squinting, he tried to make out what was happening on the boat, or at least try and see who was crazy enough to be out this late. It turned out to be two children, who suddenly tumbled out of their boat and into the water. Stan's eyes adjusted to the dark, crashing water, and was able to see the silhouettes of a boy and girl. They were ferociously punching, kicking, and splashing at each other as they seemingly attempted to get to dry land. The boy was a little further behind the girl, until he suddenly lept forward from the water and crashed on top of the girl, dragging them both further under the water.

"O-oh geez-" Stanley gasped, suddenly leaping from the swing. "W-what should I do!? Should I hel- Ho-"

"Let go!" The girl's strong voice suddenly rang out as her head broke the surface.

With a quick fist, she landed a harsh knock against the boy's jaw, and processed to kick away from him. In an instant, she was back to swimming as fast as her thin arms seemed to be capable of carrying her.

"Ow! You'll pay for that!" The boy shouted angrily, taking a moment to collect himself before swimming off after her "Get back here!"

The girl still beat him to the sand, and she stumbled onto the shore. However, the boy wasn't too far behind. Without thinking, Stan rushed to the girl's assistance.

"Hey, kid-" He began, only to have the girl stomp right passed him.

"I don't need any help! I'm fine." She called over her shoulder bitterly.

"Hey," Stan said with a small and worried grin. "Just making sure... You two fighting seemed a bit worse than what I just went th-"

He paused, realizing that he knew very little about this girl and was probably just talking out of his ass right now. Frowning, he decided to take what the girl said as gospel and went silent.

"Is that so?" She hissed, wringing her wet hair out. "Whats your problem?"

"I-I guess." Stanley shrugged, frowning. "I just got kicked out by my parents and I really only have my car-"

"You have a car?" She snapped suddenly. "Mind giving me a ride before my brother gets here?"

"Um... sure?" Stan said with a bit of uncertainty. "Where to? Home?"

"No." She muttered. "Just... away from here, if that's okay. I can foot you the gas money and-."

"Nah, that's fine- What about your brother or whoever that guy i-" Stan began, but he stopped when the girl sent a death glare his way. "I'm just not gonna ask."

She nodded her head, and began speed walking a little, with Stan following close behind her. He silently pointed out the car to her, and unlocked it.

"Just sit on my jac-" Stan began, but by then she had practically jumped into the passenger seat, dampening the fake leather seats, much to Stan's annoyance.

"It'll dry. Just get in." With that, Stan followed in suit.

Once in, he strapped in his seat belt, started the car, and then hit the gas. From his side view mirror, he could see that the boy had just made it to the sand by then.

"Eat dirt, Benjamin," the girl hissed, then lowered her head. "Wake me up when we get somewhere."

Stan dared not oppose, and turned his eyes back to the road. He stayed silent, and listened to the sound of her breathing, waiting until it evened out to signal that she had fallen asleep.

"Bosy kid." He aired his grievances the moment he felt it safe, and looked down to her quickly.

With her asleep, he was able to get a better look at her. Or rather a couple of quick glances while still trying to keep his eyes and car on the road.

"Let's see-" He muttered, piecing his glances together into a small picture in his head.

She wore a green dress with draping sleeves that fell over small, honey arms. Shiny black hair, which honestly reminded Stan of his own mother's, was tied back into a thick braid. Her nose was sharp and tilted upwards like his mother's also. Despite the resemblance to Ma Pines, she still had a rather statue like resting face like Filbrick. Then again, this could have just been Stanley's emotionally damaged mind playing tricks.

"Gotta be it. Unless this kid is my lost baby sister." He joked to no one in perticular. "Not that I'd really want my family around me right now... Not after I was just kicked out by them..."

Stan sighed, and took one last glance over to the child. If he had to guess her age, then her overall form put her at twelve to fourteen, and she was a little too thin for his liking. Frowning, he casted his last glance at the cigarette tray in his car, the one that he usually used for loose change. From the looks of it, he had just enough to feed the kid something from a small stand or something, but that was about it.

"Good thing I had those Toffee Nuts earlier... Looks like dinner is going to the new kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. What was I doing again.... oh, right. COMMENT. I NEED VALIDATION.


	2. Unwelcome Questions and Begrudgingly Given Answers

They drove for almost two hours, just a little past midnight, and the stars shone bright in the black sky. It almost was peaceful, but it was plagued by upset thoughts. Stan drove to a campsite he and his brother had been to multiple times, and parked. The girl seemed to notice the slight change, and groggily woke up. In the moonlight, Stan saw her eyes were a midnight blue, unlike the Pines chocolate brown he was used to seeing.  
  
"Where are we?" She groaned, stretching her back. "How far did we go?"   
  
"We're in a forest," Stan informed her, getting out of the car with the duffle bag. She followed out and lay on the ground a foot or two away from Stan, eyes gleaming like a cat's. He placed the bag on the ground, unzipped it, and began checking its contents. "Soap... clothes... shampoo... more clothes... nice! Twenty bucks! And here's some trail mix!"   
  
He tossed the container to the girl, who caught it in the air. She tilted her head at him, silently questioning.   
  
"Aren't you hungry?" He asked. "Don't you want a little dinner?"   
  
"Well..." she said with a slightly forced smile, "I haven't had a dinner since I was six. No breakfast. Only lunch. This," she shook the container, "Surprised me."   
  
"What are you waiting for?" Stan questioned in shock. "You must be starving!"   
  
She opened the mix, took out a handful, and passed it to Stan.   
  
"I'm not hungry," he announced, but his stomach chose that time to intervene. The girl smiled a little and this time it was genuine, if a bit small. It filled Stan with a sort of happiness.

  
"Eat," she urged. "You must be as hungry as me."

 

Begrudgingly, he complied, and her smile widened a millimeter. Stan didn't realize at the time, but his did as well.

 

"What's your name, kid?" He asked while sticking his hand into the mix.

 

"I can tell you your name's Stanley," she replied with a slight tease in her voice, "Your license plate gives it away."

 

"Look kid," Stanley growled slightly at her avoidance, "If you're gonna stick with me, then you can't keep these secrets."

 

"Hmph," she trumped, looking away. "Nope."

 

"Fine," Stan groaned, then an idea struck him. "Hey kid, let's play a game. I ask a question, you answer for you, then I'll answer the same question, and then you ask a question both answer. Got it?"

 

"Alright," she sighed with a small nod. "My name's Elizabeth. Elizabeth Cipress. Cipress is spelled with an 'i'."

 

"Cipress... like the tree?" Stan wondered. Elizabeth nodded in response, motioning for the trail mix. "Kinda ironic, seeing as my last name's Pines."

 

"Welcome to the forest," she joked. Stan chuckled before she spoke again. "My turn... who's in your family?"

 

"Well, there's my ma," he slowly answered, a fond smile spreading on his face. "Sherman, my older brother. Shirley, my little sister, my pa, and..."

 

Stan felt the words catch in his throat. The raw emotions began to attack his tired mind. He couldn't think about anything but Ford's hurtful words, and it killed him. He just-

 

"Hey."

 

Elizabeth's voice cut into his insidious thoughts like a knife through water. Her expression was concerned, sympathetic.

 

"It's okay if you don't want to answer that yet," she told him gently. "I'll just say my-"

 

"No!" Stan cut her off. "It's just..."

  
"Hard to realize your own twin hates you," she muttered, finishing his sentence, albeit with slightly different words. She glanced up at him. "I hope yours wasn't as bad as mine."

 

"Huh," Stan murmured. "Naw, Stanford? He didn't hate me, at least not until tonight."

 

"Hold the phone," Elizabeth giggled, wrinkling her nose in a way that reminded Stanley of Shermie while he studied. "You both were named Stan?"

 

"Yeah," Stan chuckled. "Stanford liked to be called 'Ford', though. Anyways, I said my family, now you say yours."

 

"Well, there's my adoptive mom and dad," she started, sticking her hand into the mix and leaning back. "And well, my adoptive twin, Benjamin, and my real mom and dad. Whom, for the record, I never met."

 

"Wait a sec," Stan struggled to process the information. "How can you have an adoptive twin?!"

 

"So here's how it works:" she explained. "My biological parents were murdered when I was two weeks old. I was put into an adoption facility. The same day I was born, my adoptive parents were due to have twins, but only one made it. So my dad searched the world for a girl with black hair and dark blue eyes, born on the same day, and near the same time, as his son. I guess around ten months into his search he began to lose hope and he’d gone on a walk to clear his head. He ended up walking by the center I was at, and he checked out the children. It was late August, so everyone was enjoying the remainder of warmth. Everyone but me. My dad said that I was laying down in a little patch of flowers, looking up at the sky. He fell in love with me, and when he found out the date and time I was born matched up with his kid, me being twelve minutes younger, he adopted me the same afternoon. And that is how I have an adoptive twin."

 

"Wow," Stan breathed, "That's... really confusing, but I guess it makes sense. Sounds like you had to explain that a lot."

 

“Well, duh," she said, nudging him. "It's your turn to ask a question.”

 

"Alrighty then," he chortled. "What is your birthday, favorite food, and favorite color?"

 

"That's three questions," Elizabeth complained. "But fine. My birthday is October 31st, if I had to pick a favorite food it would be donuts, and my favorite color is midnight blue."

 

"June 15th," Stan smirked slightly and bitterly, knowing it would come up soon, "Toffee Nuts. And red. Your turn, Lizzie."

 

The nickname slipped out of Stan's mouth before he could stop himself. He blushed a little under the look she gave him.

 

"What got you kicked out?" She asked, shrugging off the awkwardness, "And I don't mind you calling me that, _Lee_."

 

“Um… OK,” he swallowed, trying to clear his thoughts. “Well, Sixer, my twin, is a straight out genius. He can answer everything, create anything, and do everything. So he went and made a science thing for the school fair. Well, this fancy big college heard about it, but I broke it the night before they came to check it out.”

 

“Alright…” Lizzie said, with a slightly puzzled expression. “But how did that get you kicked out?”

 

“The college didn't take ‘im,” Stan swallowed thickly. “An’ when our pa found out, he threw me out on the street, an’ told me that I had to make the millions I lost before I could come home.”

 

“That's disgusting,” Liz growled. “I got kicked out for probably getting someone… more like a lot of people- killed. Actually… I kinda ran away…”

 

“So I'm trapped in a random forest with a possible murderer?” Stan joked seriously. “Come on, yer story makes no sense. Explain it for me!”

 

“So… it started when I stole a certain document from my mother's safe,” Lizzie sighed. “But I accidentally took an extra paper, one with… disgusting information on it. Well, I showed the paper to my father, who was outraged. At first, my father seemed to calm down. But one by one, the people who were listed on the document began to be killed, in very horrific and mysterious ways. My mother and brother found out what I had done, and they were furious. Then, my mother ordered my brother to ki- er, _punish_ me. And now I'm here!”

 

“So you had to run away... because of a paper?” Stan asked, shocked. “But that's… so dumb!”

 

“Tell me about it,” she groaned, resting her head on hands. However, she immediately jolted upright, and studied her left hand with a look of horror. “M-my ring! It's _gone_!”

 

“Wait, what?” Stan was befuddled now. “What's so important about it?”

 

“It… it was my ticket home!” She cried, her head dropping into her hands. “As in, if I were you, it would've been _two_ million dollars!”

 

She bit her lip and her eyes glazed over with tears, but she didn't let them out. Instead, she paused and took a deep breath, and when she reopened her eyes, you'd've never thought they had ever been there.

 

“No good ever came out of crying,” she grumbled. “Guess I'm stuck with ya longer than I thought. If my memory serves correctly, it's your turn for a question.”

 

“I think Lizzie,” Stan yawned, stretching his back as well. “That this conversation can continue later. It's better if we sleep.”

 

“‘Kay,” she replied, and yawned as well. “G’nite, Ley.”

  
She fell asleep rather quickly, but Stan did not. He had _way_ too much to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have many outcomes, but which one will you find?


	3. Thrifty Giggles

When Stanley awoke, the first thing he realized was that he was slightly moist. Everywhere. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as confusing. Then he remembered he was outside. Why was he outside? Wha… what… what happened? He knew that he had slept outside many times with Ford… but by the beach. There were no sounds of crashing waves or the annoying squawk of seagulls. Instead, there were trees rustling and the early morning tweet of birds. He… he was in a forest. He was wet because dew landed on him. He was outside because he got kicked out, and  _ that _ was because he broke Sixer’s project. With a groan, Stan pushed himself up with one hand, the other by his head.

‘Idiot… moron… worthless… waste of space….’ and other degradations rushed through his thoughts, getting louder by the moment. He put his shaking head into his hands, whispering ‘no, no, no, no….’ but all he felt was hollow. Empty. Cold. Drained. Torn. Useless. He ruined his own life, and he had to drag his beloved brother’s, his best and very much only friend’s life down as well. There was nothing he could’ve done, why did he even go back to that stupid science idiocy? There was nothing fair about it. Why did they put ‘fair’ in the name? Who knows. At least he got his thoughts off of  _ that _ .

“You’re thinking so loud I can hear you from here,” a wry voice joked, but sounding tired and hoarse, as though the person had been yelling all night. “Rise and shine, Pines.”

“Meh… wha?” was Stan’s response. Who was with him? Oh, right. A girl. Eliza? Beth? Wait… “Elizabeth?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. What did she do with her throat last night? “Um… are ya alright?”

“I guess.” Stan shrugged. “I think I’m still shocked or something.”

“So… um,” Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. She was standing near the StanleyMobile and looked out past Stan into the forest with a somewhat wistful expression. “I’m sorry.” She forced out. “I… probably shouldn't have acted like that yesterday. Like… you were helping me… and I just was… I don’t even know. I know I’m sorry.”

“Look…” Stan sighed, hating how awkward this was. He never was awkward before, why was this so strange? “I get it. You were stressed, I was stressed, we both are stressed. I think that we both take stress differently, but the same.”

“How so?” she asked, tilting her head and flopping onto the ground. Stan found it odd that she was able to do such a mundane act with the utmost amount of grace. “Do we take stress the same, that is?”

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly. A small smile twitched on Elizabeth’s lips, then vanished. “But we both seem to take things aggressively.”

“You take them aggressively?” she stated, a questioning itch to her tone. “Verbally? Physically?”

“I used ta box,” Stan said, quite prideful and proud, remembering his first time in the ring with a smile. “So, ya. Physically. With punching!”

A small dainty hand shot up to cover her mouth, eyes twinkling and sparkling, and it hit Stan that she was trying not to grin. Well, he was going to get her to smile, even if it was the last thing he could do.

“Yeah, I punched a lot of things,” he continued, getting to his feet, for his own theatrical purposes. “Bullies, muggers, teachers, that one guy on the football team I hated, you name it! I even punched a wall!”

“A wall?! That ain’t no punch, try a tree!” Elizabeth added, a ghost of a smirk hiding on her face, shifting away as quickly as it had come. “Those are tough.”

“Oh really,” Stan challenged, strutting over to her like a shameless peacock, grinning increasingly and smug beyond belief. “Do you think I’d be able to?”

“That’s up to you,” she replied, tossing her ponytail back. “I doubt it, though.”

“It is  _ on _ !” he laughed, going over to one of the trees by their alcove. And he hit it with all his might. And within that moment, the instant Stan’s hand connected with bark, there was only one emotion. Doubling over his now injured hand, Stan wheezed out one word, “Regret!”

A soft tinkling noise spread throughout the forest. It started quiet, but grew in crescendo. Stanley opened an eye to see Elizabeth… laughing? Wow. Her almond eyes squeezed shut, one hand around her stomach, the other still covering her mouth, the young girl folded over as her guffaws rang clear. It was a pleasant sound, one Stan found himself joining, unintentionally. The whole situation was so funny, so absurd, Stan was quite surprised that he only started laughing now. Two outcasted kids with no plan or family, sitting in a forest punching trees.

* * *

 

They drove the entire day, barely talking aside from random conversation about nothingness. The cities and towns came and went, fast yet unbearably slow, they drove incessantly, pausing only for gas and to stretch their sore legs. It was only on the next day entirely when Elizabeth spoke up.

“You’ve been pretty dang down in the dumps lately, huh?” she asked, looking out the window as they drove through a small town. Stan grunted in response. “I have an idea. You know what girls do when they’re feeling down?”

“Sit in a circle and cry on the other’s shoulder,” Stan muttered. “Or drive their ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend’s van into a ravine. That helps. A lot.”

“ Wait… what? Nevermind. Anyway… I know I’m gonna sound really, super stereotypical, but…” a brisk smirk flicked across her face. “Let’s go shopping.”

“That would be a great idea,” Stan said with a scowl. “If we weren't dirt poor.”

“That’s exactly why…” she paused for dramatic effect, glancing at Stanley. “We’re going thrift shopping.”

* * *

 

Stan had to admit, though however much he’d like to deny it, getting five bags of stuff for two-fifty was one of the best experiences he’s had in a  _ really  _ long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S orr y I dis a p e ared and ja zz


	4. Box

“Stanley.”

The name was spoken softly, but stern.

“Stanley,” Elizabeth said again, a little louder. “Stanley Pines. Get off the ground.”

“Nooo,” he moaned. "I'm comfy on the ground."

In all seriousness, the asphalt was comfortable. Though, it was likely that he wouldn't feel like moving even if it wasn't. He was too dang depressed.

“Exactly,” She sighed, pulled Stan to his feet and then jumping onto the hood of the car, ignoring Stan’s noise of protest.

“You said you liked to box, right?” She asked, idly folding her legs.

“Princess, I AM a boxer,” Stan groaned, but his scowl vanished when he saw his companion’s stricken expression. “You okay?”

“Don't call me that.” She demanded in a threatening whisper from her perch on the hood of the car. 

“What? ‘Princess’?”

“Yeah, that.” Despite this, Stan smirked, seeing he got Elizabeth riled up. 

“You got a problem with that, Princess?”

“Yes, Stanley,” Elizabeth growled, causing Stan to step back with surprised yet amused eyes. 

She had growled like a cat might. 

“You know, I was going to ask if you wanted to box to get your mind off things, but since we're fighting now..." Her voice trailed slightly. "How about a wager?"

"Sounds fun. Name the game." Stan muttered lowly.

"If you win one round against me, you can call me 'princess'. If I win, then you don’t get to.”

“Alright, but I wouldn’t like to hurt a hair on your pretty little head,” Stan smirked, feeling a bit of pride in how her jaw locked in anger. 

“Let’s go then,” Elizabeth hissed, leaping off the car and taking Stan by the wrist. 

She lead him into a forest clearing, just a little farther than the road. Once they were in a good spot, she released him. From there she took five paces off, spinning on her heel to face him.

“En guarde.”

"Ding, ding." Stan grinned wildly, bounding forward to deliver a sharp blow to his opponent’s abdomen, only to find that she was no longer in front of him. 

A sharp jab struck Stan’s back, causing him to lose his footing. It sent him spiraling into a nearby tree. Shaking his head in pain, Stan groaned at the stars in his vision. When he opened them, he found he was seeing double from the force of the hit. Though, he only waited a moment for his sight to focus. Elizabeth stood, arms crossed and with an expectant look. 

Stan rushed forward again, this time anticipating another sidestep. This time, he managed to land quite a blow to her side, sending her toppling over. 

With a growl, Elizabeth staggered to her feet, and hurriedly landed a sharp jab to his stomach. This caused him to double over,  just long enough for honey brown arms to catch him in a headlock.

“Tap out,” She said, quiet and dangerous. 

Stan felt his eyes widen, but he forced them to narrow. There was absolutely no way he was going to lose this fight to a fourteen year old. He stood up quickly, knocking Elizabeth off balance. Using this to his advantage, he grabbed both of her arms and flipped her forward. 

She crashed to the ground with a thud, and rolled away immediately. Yet, as soon as she scrambled to her feet, Stan landed a quick blow to her chest. While it wasn't hard enough to do any damage, it did end up forcing her back several feet.

"Not gonna happen." Stan grinned viciously. 

While she was still discombobulated, he rushed at her, knocking her fully to the ground. He attempted to pin her down with his arm, but she caught his hand with hers and forced it away from her, attempting to sit up as she did so.

Stan succeeded in keeping her down, until she kneed him in the stomach. She swung another blow, yet Stan caught her fist moments before it landed. At the same time, Stan had thrust a blow with the opposite hand, and Elizabeth caught his blow as well. The pair stared at each other, each unsure of the other’s next action. They exchanged a few blows, yet the other would always intercept their strikes. Another pause, before they both kicked, attempting to throw their opponent off balance, which resulted in both of them upon the ground. She pounced onto him, and he threw her off. They tumbled around for a while longer, until neither had the energy or adrenaline to deal with each other.

“Truce?” Elizabeth wheezed, tired and spent.

“Yeah,” Stan groaned. Man, that fight was a lot harder than he anticipated. “Truce.”

The two laid on the ground breathing heavily, with only the rustling of trees to ambush their ears. The wind cooled them, a much needed respite from the rigorous attack they enforced. The sun warmed their faces, and Stan heard Elizabeth’s breathing slow. He didn’t need to look at her to know she had fallen asleep. It seemed like a good idea, if Stan was being honest.

And it didn’t even seem like he was in control of the situation. He felt his eyes droop, his body relax, and his mind drifted to a better land, far away from him, a land with the ocean and beach and a caring brother with six fingers.


	5. Raining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining. They're dancing.

“Man!” Stan hooted, turning up the car’s radio. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and folded her legs, sunlight of dawn hitting her bare feet. “I love this song! So… I’ll pull over here! Dancing is a great way to get the bloods flowing!”

He quickly found an exit and zoomed into the side forestier. He hopped out of the car after turning the music all the way up. He laughed as he spun on his toes, dirt flying around his feet. The rhythm washed over him, and the beat thrummed deep into his veins. His bones disappeared, replaced with the complete and utter desire to move. As he swayed with the winds of the sounds, Elizabeth watched silently. There was a slight… wish in her eyes as she watched her friend and companion dance. Her expression was completely blank, no emotion to be detected, as her gaze rested on Stan. When the song ended, she quickly looked away, embarrassed. Stan trotted over to her side of the car. A commercial break played on the radio, something about becoming a con man or a door to door salesman. There was no difference, really. He tapped on the window and opened the door, grinning at her like a fox. Elizabeth glanced down at her hands folded in her lap, the pink tinge on her cheeks disappearing as soon as it came. Another song slowly started to play, a soft, smooth, and slow song.

“Hey, may I have this dance?” Stan asked jokingly, extending a hand towards her and smirked. Elizabeth stared at his hand in shock, as though it was an alien subspecies. “C’mon, Princess!”

“I- um- I…” she stammered, avoiding Stan’s gaze. He rolled his eyes and pulled her out of the car. Elizabeth slipped her hand from his grip around her wrist and stumbled away. “W- wait! I… I can’t dance.”

“‘Course you can,” Stan said with a shrug. He glanced about for a moment. Was she embarrassed? “Like, there’s no one around, so if you think it’s embarrassing, I don’t judge.”

“No, I don’t find it embarrassing,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I… I, well, can’t dance. Yeah, I have two left feet an’….”

Stan stared at her as she continued to mumble excuses, before breaking out into a bubbling laugh. She stared back at him with another excuse on her lips. He already figured out how Elizabeth spoke when she was lying. Continuous talk of nothingness. He held his sides as his laugh turned into a guffawing, bursting, howl.

“You’re… God damn it, Lizzie, you’re a terrible, horrible liar,” he gasped out. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. “You can’t dance? Girl, ya walk like a princess, but you  _ can’t dance!? _ ”

“… Yes?” she mumbled with a varying degree of uncertainty. Good. She should be confused, just like anyone else would be. She opened her mouth to reply. “I uh, I guess?”

“Stop right there,” Stan stated, finally having regained his breath. He rose a hand to stop the tirade of protests she no doubt had been preparing in her mind, and firmly placed the other on his hip in a fist. “You’re gonna dance, and if you really can’t, I’ll teach you.”

And with that, he put his left hand on her shoulder and his right around her waist, and pulled her forward suddenly. He felt her repress a shudder. Whatever it was something happened to her while dancing that repulsed her from the art. Well, he was going to fix that if it’s the last thing he does. He was glad that the song was slow, that was the best route in the situation. He swayed slightly, but frowned when his partner was stiff. He bonked his head to hers, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You’re a rock,” he chided, smirking lightly. “Relax!”

“I’m trying,” she growled, even as she tensed even more. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her teeth grit against one another. Stan tapped their heads together again, and Elizabeth’s dark blue eyes snapped open. “God Stan, are ya trying to kill me?”

“No,” he slickly replied with a smirk. He twirled her around suddenly, making her stifle a gasp. “I’m making you live a little.”

Stan slipped his hand from her shoulder, and intertwined their fingers. She grasped back, clinging to his hand as though it were the only lifeline in sight of the ocean’s crashing abyss. What made her despise, no,  _ fear _ , dancing so much? He tried swaying gently with her, and she minutely swayed in tune, focusing too much on her motions. Stan began humming along with his movements, and a new, slightly faster blues song began playing.

Elizabeth slowly began relaxing, tense muscles unclenching, jaw unlocking, eyes softening. Stan twirled her again, and laughed when she giggled in her spin to the music. She began singing in a different language to the music, and Stan smirked… momentarily.

His trademark grin slowly disapparated when he saw how Lizzie “transformed.” She was smiling, openly for once, and her eyes were closed gently. She was actually relaxed, and far more relaxed than Stan had ever seen, more relaxed than when she was resting, or even sleeping. Elizabeth’s form flowed, easily shifting from one pose to another, in a stark contrast to her usual stiff posture. He pulled her a little closer when he saw she was comfortable, and though her eyes widened in surprise, she ultimately did not protest. Instead, she smiled softly, but it was only a flickering one, one second it’s there, the next… it isn't. Stan smirked back, twirling her outward, arm extended for her to roll in. To his delight, she complied, and giggled - actually giggled! To his complete astonishment, she leaned the back of her head against Stan’s shoulder, and smiled up at him. They stood together, swaying in the waves of music. They hummed to the tune in tandem, rhythm thrumming in their veins. Elizabeth seemed to… vibrate, in a way. It didn’t matter to Stan, even though he couldn’t place what it was, but he was certain they weren’t normal. He didn’t care, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with his friend.

It was all precious, a moment he wanted to last forever in his now uncertain future. Her black hair, even though it was tied up in a ponytail, swayed in the wind, spreading to flutter in the breezy expanse. The way the sun lit up their faces, two kids having fun. Even long after the song ended, the duo still stood swaying as the next one came up.

“The sky looks beautiful,” Elizabeth whispered gently, not wanting to break the comforting atmosphere. Stan looked up, and he had to agree. “See the way the pinks and reds swirl into the purples, the purples waft into the blues, and the blues meld into the blacks?”

Stan hummed in agreement, and they continued to rock airly in the sounds of music. They watched the sun creep up slowly, and Stan groggily remembered that it was the morning. The stars slowly disappeared, and she and Stan mutely decided to get back in the car. After driving for a bit, Stan parked with a huff, and went over to Elizabeth’s side. She opened the door, and he slid in next to her, leaning back, tired. She glanced at him, but tensely laid back as well. They stared out into the cosmos as the stars faded in the emerging light of the sun.

After a few moments, Stan felt his companion rest her head against his shoulder, and Stan subconsciously wrapped an arm around her. They shared a look, more specifically the first mamihlapinatapai the two would ever have. Soon, the gaze was broken, and they both looked in the opposite directions, cursing themselves for not doing anything. Hours later, Stan re-entered the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Ok, Ma, I’ll apply, I promise,” Stan swore. “Just for don’t cry for God’s sake. Yes Ma, I love you. I’ll call you when I get the chance. Bye Ma. Take care.”

“So you’re going to college,” Elizabeth said cockily from her perch on the hood of the StanleyMobile. “That’s good for you.”

Stan scowled. He didn’t want to go to college. It reminded him of what he did to ruin his brother’s future and his own. It was  **not** good for him. Elizabeth noticed his sour mood, and she slipped from her seat over to him, and clapped him on the shoulder with a look of encouragement. He knew that look, it was the look of his mother, whenever he struggled with homework or was frustrated over a test. She turned away, and as she did, tears pricked Stanley’s eyes. He wiped them away as fast as he could. He didn’t need a reminder that he missed his mother. It was always there. He was so focused on the maddening thoughts that he had almost missed Elizabeth’s next words.

“We’ll get through this.”

It was a long night for the both of them. They didn't drive at all that day, due to wanting to get quick jobs; errands, grocery shopping, gutter cleaning, lawn mowing - little things to earn some cash. They slept badly, as there had been a heavy thunderstorm. Neither of them spoke to each other for most of the day, and at night, they nearly ignored the other's existence. And it was both easier and harder.

 

They curled up in the car for the night, both trying to get any amount of shut eye before the next day of work would arrive. Just as Stan was finally dozing off, a strike of lightning illuminated his vision, and soon after the roaring applause of thunder rolled, shaking his very bones. In the lightning, Elizabeth looked like a statue, eyes open and staring nothing in specific, expression forlorn, posture rigid and stiff, like the High Ladies of old. It was actually a quite feline position, her being the lone cat staring up at the moon, waiting for it to answer all the questions there might be in such a empty world. As she slowly lowered her head, she looked like the visual embodiment of a fighter resigning to defeat after warring against ten armies. Stanley wondered why this was so, but he dare not ask her. There was some sort of uneasiness he felt as he looked at her. Why was she so... odd? Different? Unique? None of those words seemed to fit her, and it frustrated him. The general feeling he has around Elizabeth was the uncertain one that it was as though she wasn't even meant to be there.

 

"Ley?" she whispered, startling him. He hadn't thought she knew he had been awake. "Lee, I have a question."

 

"Kid," he said while faking a yawn, stretching his arms out in the cramped confines of the car. "Can it wait 'till morning?"

 

When she was silent, Stan smirked slightly, before having the smile slip from his lips. Though she did not voice any protests, her body language spoke otherwise. She had pulled her knees up to her chin, and her brows furrowed. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, clearly uncomfortable, bothered by some unseen menace. Stan felt a wave of guilt waft over him, as she had put up with him and his antics for the past week or so, and he felt that he owed her this one thing. She seemed so troubled, so pained….

 

“Ach, what is it, Lizzie?” he conceded, giving in to his big heart. He wore it on his sleeves, but no one seemed to notice that, not even that six fingered nerd. Said large heart constricted momentarily. “C’mon, spit it out.”

 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, then glanced away. “If… if someone you liked… liked as a friend, that is, started liking you… but in the other way, and they don’t listen to you saying that you just want to stay friends… what do you do?”

 

Stan blinked. Of all questions to come from Elizabeth, this was a very unlikely one. It shocked him a bit, actually. Elizabeth, (to him, at least,) was a relatively rational thinker and one who didn’t seem to be caught up in any sort of romantic issues.

 

“And…” she continued, quieter than her earlier whispers. “What if they don’t take well to your rejection, and well, uh, and they, you know, they start… they start calling you names… pushing you around… being a total jerk….”

 

Stan’s eyes widened. This was more than just “issues”, it was much bigger. It was obviously abuse, coercion. All the wrong things in a relationship. What else was happening?

 

“What if…” she spoke all the softer, so much that Stan strained his ears trying to hear her. “What if they hurt you really badly, but say… but he says it’s all your fault?”

 

She was holding her knees closer all the tighter, biting her lip hard enough to elicit blood. Stan was genuinely worried, terrified even, for her safety. Another flash of lightning lit up the car for a moment, and in that millisecond, Stanley saw the streaks of tears running down her face. This was worse than he anticipated. Elizabeth hated crying, she had said so herself. But now… the streams glinted in the blue electrical flash, pain and sadness as clear as day, and Stan had no idea what to do in the slightest.

 

“How do you tell him…” she inhaled sharply, body seizing momentarily. “Tell him… that he’s hurting me, that he’s hurting me….”

 

She rose a hand to her neck, and for the first time, Stan noticed a long scar running across it, narrowly missing her jugular. She slid her fingers down the silvery white skin.

 

“Was… was it really…” she gasped again, raising a hand to her mouth. It slid down as she shook. “Was it really my fault? Was he… was he right? God… God… oh God, help me… I don’t know anymore, was he right? Is it my fault? Should I have just… let him?”

 

Stan stared in shock at the raven haired girl beside him. The now constant lightning kept her skin eerily illuminated, and her eyes shone sharp, overridden with the influx of tears.

 

“Oh, God…” she whispered, very near silent. “Why? My dear--”

 

She froze in time, eyes so wide that it sent a chill down Stan’s spine. My dear what? Friend? God? He tried to make sense of it all. His brain scrambled to put a face, a name, or a  _ voice _ to who it could be, and the boy chasing her on the first night they met always came to mind. What he told her… ‘YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT!’… it rang in Stan’s mind like a curse. But… wasn’t he, that boy, her… brother? The mere question rose nausea in his throat, and he felt as though he might vomit.

 

“Lizzie… was it him?” Stan asked gently, against his better judgement. “ The one who was chasing you?”

 

Without replying, the fourteen year old rushed out of the car and into the rain, yet she only made it a few yards before tripping and falling in the mud. She made no attempt to raise herself, staying down on the wet earth. Stan followed out quickly, stumbling over to Elizabeth’s shaking figure. He touched her softly on her back, and she shuddered.

 

“Can’t say, can’t tell,” she repeated, incessant, even as Stan helped her up. “Can’t say, can’t tell….”

 

“You don’t have to,” Stanley assured her, giving her hand a light squeeze as the rain beat around them. “You don’t have to do anything. You are your own person. You are you.”

 

Stan felt like Elizabeth wasn’t the only one he was telling that to. He felt that he was telling himself that as well. Elizabeth was Elizabeth. Maybe she didn’t belong in the world he was in, but she was still there. And that was who she was. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. He knew that Elizabeth was here, there with him. And that was just fine. It wasn’t perfect, but there’s no such thing as perfect. But it was better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy vey it's been too long since I last updated.


End file.
